


favorite person

by thenerdgalaxy



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, F/M, Love Confessions, M/M, Michael deserves better, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 05:41:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16056689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenerdgalaxy/pseuds/thenerdgalaxy
Summary: Michael doesn't know where it all went wrong. He doesn't know where his best friend is - mentally at least, because physically, he just saw Chloe Valentine dragging him up to the bedrooms.AKA a hot take on the scene right before Michael in the Bathroom.





	favorite person

Michael doesn't know how long he's been just sitting there, in the bathtub. He's not even sure how long he's been at this stupid fucking party, really. Does it matter? He's here, and he's alone - meanwhile, he'd seen Chloe dragging Jeremy upstairs. To where the bedrooms were.

Everyone knows what happens in a bedroom at a party.

Michael chugs the rest of his beer, trying to pass off the nausea waving over him at the idea as just having too much to drink.

Chloe, conventionally beautiful Chloe, blonde cheerleader, most popular girl in school - of course she's going to be his first.

Unless Brooke…

Michael gags, just a little, tasting the acidic bile at the back of his throat, and he grips the edge of the bathtub with his monster hand.

He never kept up with school politics until this year. Until he realized Jeremy had let the Squip erase Michael completely from his life.

_You know that you are my favorite person…_

He wants to sob.

He should've stopped him, kept him from buying that stupid SQUIP in the first place. He can't believe he was foolish enough to believe anything would stay the same. That he was good enough to keep Jeremy by his side, on his team.

12 years… gone, just like that. Like none of it mattered.

Like Michael didn't matter.

He does sob now, the singular, broken sound echoing in the bathroom. He refuses to let the tears fall, though. He's gotta get out of here unscathed, after all.

Until he's able to stand without shaking, he'll stay right here.

And, a few minutes later, that's exactly how Jeremy finds him - hiding in the bathtub at a party.

Or, well, how he finds Jeremy, sort of.

It's the first time in two months that his best friend— ex-best friend? The thought hurts - has been within arm's reach, so of course, the only thing Michael can do is reach out and touch him.

If only he weren't wearing the stupid monster hand. Maybe he could actually feel his warmth then, or be able to hold on longer.

Jeremy screams, shying away, and the loss of contact breaks something deep inside of Michael.

Not that he'd tell Jeremy that, though. “Sup.”

“Michael?” It's the first time that Jeremy has said his name in so long, and it comes out less squeaky than usual, but still as unsure. He's not sure how to feel. “I didn’t know you were invited to this party.”

“I wasn’t. Which is why I’m wearing this clever disguise!” He pushes himself out of the tub, gesturing over his costume.

Jeremy just stares at him.

Michael drinks in the attention as he sheds the costume, even if it's not what he wants. It's all wrong, this is all wrong, and he tries not to shift, tries to seem coolly indifferent. Like the scorned best friend he is. “You’re speechless. Squip got your tongue?” _Please, Jeremy, say something, anything, haven't heard you speak to me in months, goddammit._

“It’s…off.”

“That would explain why you’re talking to me.” He tries not to show how much the statement hurts himself, tries to remember everything he wanted to tell Jeremy. “I’ve been thinking about this moment. What I would say to you? I had this really pissed off monologue, an epic journey through twelve years of friendship…” Jeremy's still looking at him, but there's a shift in his gaze that derails Michael completely. “...What?”

“It’s really good to see you, man.” Michael is trying so, so hard not to respond to that, to hold onto his anger, his upset, but Jeremy's really _looking_ at him, not just skimming over him, and it's hard to ignore the twist in his gut.

“It won’t be. Once you hear what I found out.” _C'mon, Michael, keep it together. He needs to know._

“Found out?”

“About…” He taps the side of his head, and it takes Jeremy a second to realize what he means.

“How? There’s nothing on the internet—”

“Which is weird, right? I mean, what’s not on the internet? So I starting asking around. Finally, this guy I play Warcraft with…” For the first time, he almost feels… bad about himself, admitting that out loud. Just furthering the divide between him and his once upon a best friend even more. “...Told me how his brother went from a straight D student to a freshman at Harvard. You know where he is now?”

“Really happy and successful?”

“He’s in a mental hospital.” He tries to emphasize those last two words, make Jeremy _see_ , but the other boy just blinks slowly at him. “Totally lost it.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with…”

“Think, man! We’re talking an insanely powerful super-computer. You really think its primary function is to get you laid? Who made them? How did they end up in a high school? In New Jersey? Of all possible applications for such a mind-blowingly advanced technology, you ever wonder what it’s doing inside _you_?” _Please, Jeremy, think it through,_ **_understand_ ** _…_

“And I thought _Chloe_ was jealous…” The bile rises once more, and it feels kinda like he's been punched in the gut. It takes all his willpower to not ask what happened up there, in that bedroom.

“I’m honestly asking!”

“Really? Because I think you’re pissed I have one and you don’t!”

That's the last thing he wants. “Come on—”

“Maybe I got lucky, is that so weird? With my history, I’d say the universe owed me one. And I don’t know about your friend’s brother’s whatever, but if you’re telling me his squip made him crazy—”

“His squip didn’t make him crazy.” His voice sounds a little more hollow, any remaining hope fleeing from him fast. Jeremy seems surprised.

“Oh. Well… There you go.”

“He went crazy trying to get it out.”

“Then I’ve got nothing to worry about. Why would I want that?” _For me?_ But Jeremy is already moving to push past him, and he panics, blocking him from the door. “Move it.”

“Jeremy—”

“I mean it, Michael, get out of my way. I can just push you, don't be such a—”

“ _You know that you are my favorite person,_ ” Michael sings, voice low and pleading, and Jeremy almost winces, looking away from him. “ _And you know that means, I can't let you leave_.” Different words, different tone, but it’s all he has. A last ditch effort.

Jeremy still refuses to look at him, and again it feels like those long weeks of trying to get Jeremy to just _see_ him, look at him fucking _once_ , but multiplied times a thousand.

“ _Is it really true…_ ” For a brief moment, as Jeremy sings back, there's hope again. But the lyric isn't finished, even mockingly, and Michael feels dread shoot through him. He regrets not telling Jeremy then, regrets joking it off instead of actually confronting his feelings directly. “...It doesn't matter, Michael.”

“Of course it matters.”

“Why?” And Jeremy is looking at him again, an almost desperate look in his eyes. “I finally have everything I've ever wanted, Michael. Or, at least, I will soon. The SQUIP says that Christine—”

“I love you,” Michael suddenly blurts out, the words breathless, but the truth in them rings clear. Jeremy looks stunned for a moment, but then Michael can see the gears in his beautiful (though often very fucking dumb) brain, doing all those mental acrobatics, and he sighs.

“I know, Michael - I was your best friend, of course you love me.” _Was._  The word makes him want to collapse on the spot.

“God dammit, Jeremy, wouldja just listen to me??”

Jeremy just stares at him, his gaze carefully blank, and Michael clenches his hands into fists, wishing he had his hoodie to hide them.

“I…” Now that he has his attention, he doesn't know how to continue. His mouth is a little dry, and he doesn't even know if Jeremy will actually _understand_.

So…

So, he kisses him.

He reaches out, hands cupping Jeremy's cheeks gently, and the other boy seems stunned once more, too stunned to do anything. And Michael leans in, pressing their lips together like he'd wanted to do months ago, started wanting to do years ago.

Jeremy just stands there, stock still, until Michael pulls away. Michael keeps his eyes closed, refusing to let go of his cheeks.

“ _You know that you… are my favorite person,_ ” Michael murmurs, the low melody still carried in his words. He finally opens his eyes, looking up to Jeremy. His best friend, his player two, the only one that has ever mattered to him. “ _But that doesn't mean... that I can't still dream…_ ” Dream of this future, of them, of being by Jeremy's side forever.

Jeremy looks conflicted, so many emotions flicking through his eyes that even Michael can't decipher them. God, he wishes he could.

They stand there for half an eternity, the sounds of the party far, far away, and Michael… hopes.

For the first time in a long time, he has hope.

“Michael,” Jeremy says, voice low and a little broken. “Move it.”

Michael blinks, tries to make sense of the turn, and then he's taking his hands off of him, stumbling backwards just a step. “Jeremy?”

“You can't… you can't do that now. You _can't._  It's too late, I'm… I'm about to achieve everything I've ever dreamed of. Nothing can stand in the way of that now.”

“What about me?” Michael asks, his carefully constructed walls tumbling down.

“Can't you just be happy for me?” His voice is almost pleading, now.

“Not when I know that this _thing_ is going to ruin you.”

Jeremy's expression hardens a little. It hurts to see. “So you don't think I'm strong enough? That I can actually make it?”

“Fuck, Jer, that's not what I—”

“Move. It.” Jeremy has never sounded so brutal, or angry. At least, never about Michael. Never like this. Michael swallows, feeling weak, but he still has to try.

“Or you’ll what?”

“Get out of my way.” Jeremy sneers a little, leaning to tower over him. “ _Loser_.”

That… that was like a fatal blow, the Finish Him to Jeremy's previous attacks and combos. He can't do it. There's no way to keep him safe, no way to bring Jeremy back. He's been too far gone for far too long. Michael meekly steps aside, and Jeremy shoves past him without a second glance. When the door slams behind him, Michael can't even make it back to the tub before he's crumbling to the ground, breaking apart.

Game over.


End file.
